Growth
by Clockwork Mockingbird
Summary: If anyone had ever told a story about The Dark One cooing to a baby in a sing-song voice, he probably would have turned them into a snail for the lie. Yet there he was at four am, his daughter wailing into his shoulder, bouncing and murmuring nonsense to her. Rumbelle baby/family fic.


**A/N:** Nonsensical baby/family fic. Because shut up.

* * *

Belle had been acting strange for days.

She'd always been an early riser, waking long before him to make breakfast, then forcing him out of bed before he was late to work. Again.

Rumplestiltskin plated the eggs, casting a worried glance up the stairs. It was nearly ten o'clock, and she was still sleeping.

Could she be sick? She'd felt warm the past few days, but she'd insisted it was nothing to worry about. The heat, she'd said. That was all.

Belle had never lied to him, so Rumplestiltskin had turned the air conditioner on full blast despite the brisk autumn air and said nothing else on the matter.

"Morning."

Relieved that she was at least awake, Rumplestiltskin turned. "Good morning. Would you like some eggs?"

Belle's eyes lit up. She bent to give him a kiss, smiling against his lips when he held her in place. "They smell wonderful," she sighed happily.

"So do you." He nuzzled her hair with his nose, chuckling when she swatted him away with a giggle.

He wasn't entirely sure what happened. Belle took two bites of her food, smiling at him across the table (a more beautiful sight had never been seen and he would fight anyone who said otherwise).

"Are you going to see Bael- Neal today?" she'd asked.

They were going out to dinner with Henry, and she'd smiled when he'd told her. He was trying with his son. And his grandson. There was still much hurt and disappointment between them, but Henry smiled and laughed and pestered his new grandfather with questions until Rumplestiltskin couldn't help but love the boy.

"I'm glad things are better," Belle said softly.

"I think the fact that I'm happily married threw him," Rumplestiltskin admitted. "He wasn't sure what to do with that knowledge, and he was off-guard enough for Henry to make plans for all of us."

Belle had laughed, another bite of eggs popped into her mouth.

Her fork clattered to the table, hitting her plate before it dropped to the floor. Her chair rocked backwards, hitting the wall to hang at an angle as she surged to her feet, hand clamped firmly over her mouth. She bolted from the kitchen, just barely making it to the bathroom before she lost the meager contents of her stomach.

Rumplestiltskin ran as best he could, kneeling beside his wife on the tile floor, gathering her hair in his hands.

"Sorry," she moaned. "I'm so sorry."

"Hardly your fault that you're sick." And if his voice shook a little, then it was all right. If Belle was not one hundred percent well, it was his right to be worried. "We should take you to see Whale," he said, helping her stand. They wouldn't need an appointment, not with Whale dating Ruby. The wolf would insist Belle be seen immediately.

Belle glanced at him over her shoulder and bit her lip sheepishly.

"Ah. You already went." He smoothed a flyaway curl from her face, waiting until she'd brushed her teeth before asking (a small victory, because Belle had gone to the doctor- and more importantly she'd gone to the doctor and not told him). "What did he say?"

The line of her shoulders grew tense, her back stiff even as she bent over the sink. She was quiet for a beat too long, and panic began to claw at him.

"Sweetheart," he breathed (and his voice did shake then fear and terror and so much worry rocking him to his core), "please tell me. I can... help. Make you better." His hands shook on his cane as he prayed the words weren't a lie. This world had new diseases, ones he'd never cured. If she was truly ill, dangerously ill, he'd work day and night until he had the correct spell to cure her.

"Belle, please-"

"I'm pregnant."

The world shrank around him, warping until it was the size of his bathroom, just him and Belle in the tiny space. And a baby.

A child.

_Their _child.

Belle wouldn't look at him, and through his euphoria, he realized she was crying, shoulders and hands and arms all shaking.

"Please don't be upset," Belle begged, and those were not happy tears she was crying.

"Upset?" Rumplestiltskin couldn't fathom it. He dropped his cane and gathered Belle into his arms- arms that shook because he was shaking and he simply couldn't believe it. "Why would I be upset? This is... I can't even tell you how amazing this is, my Belle." And his voice shook again, barely restrained joy threatening to make him burst.

"Neal and Henry... Rumple I swear I didn't mean to, I promise. I could never replace Baelfire, it just happened-"

He silenced her with a kiss that barely touched her, his smile too wide for his lips to cooperate.

"A baby," he said reverently, hand splayed against her stomach. "Our baby." Rumplestiltskin smiled, barely managing a laugh. "We're going to have a child. Oh my Belle. You're going to be a _wonderful_ mother."

Slowly, Belle's lips curved, and those tears were happy, those tears were joy. "We're going to have a baby," she whispered.

Rumplestiltskin laughed, a watery, joyful sound, and kissed his wife. Bae had always wanted to be a big brother. Rumplestiltskin couldn't wait to tell him the news.

* * *

"I'm gonna be an uncle?!" Henry bounced in the booth, their drinks wobbling dangerously on the table.

"I think you're going to_ have_ an uncle," Neal corrected him. "Or an aunt." He ate a french fry, watching his father watch his son, one amused, one excited. "That's... that's seriously great. Wow. How far along is she?"

Rumplestiltskin steadied his glass, nudging his plate over when Henry reached for what was left of his fries. "About six weeks," he said, and there was love and pride in his voice, and Neal couldn't stop his smile.

"Stop stealing your grandfather's fries."

Henry sheepishly glanced up at his father. "I'm still hungry," he admitted. "Can I get dessert?"

"You have got to be powered by a black hole or something," Neal muttered, elbowing his son. "Where do you put it all?"

"You ate just as much when you were growing too," Rumplestiltskin reminded him, dumping his leftovers onto Henry's plate. At Neal's look, he shrugged. "I'm not going to eat them all, not if I want dessert."

Henry's eyes lit up. "Can we have ice cream?" he wanted to know. "The sundaes here are really good."

"Precisely what I was thinking."

Neal shook his head, laughing into his hand. "You guys are in cahoots."

"Does that mean you don't want ice cream?"

"Woah now, I never said _that_..."

* * *

The curve of Belle's stomach was one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen. That was their child growing inside her, a life, a soul, kicking and moving right there beneath his hand.

Rumplestiltskin was already wrapped around his daughter's finger.

He'd always kept an eye on Belle, and now he watched her like a hawk, new-father paranoia and his natural suspicious nature nearly making him put protective wards around Belle and the baby both that would last until the sun burned out.

But he couldn't do that. Belle might not like it.

However, watching Belle meant he noticed things. He noticed when her back or feet hurt, pulling her into a chair or her feet into his lap to massage away the aches and pains. He noticed when she couldn't sleep, brewing her special tea at midnight, staying awake with her until she could doze off.

Rumplestiltskin noticed, because that was what he did, when Belle began putting an extraordinary amount of strawberry jam on her toast, the bread sagging under the weight of the red goop, the trash overflowing with empty jars. He noticed her sucking on hard candies (Bae had purchased them for her, always dropping by to visit, sometimes with Henry in tow, but occasionally without him) constantly. A quick glance at the (nearly empty) bag had revealed them to be strawberry lifesavers.

It was winter, and strawberry season was a long way off, but what kind of Dark One would he be if he couldn't conjure up bright red fruit for his wife and daughter?

Belle devoured the entire bowl before she said thank you, lips eager against his. Rumplestiltskin's last coherent thought was that she tasted like strawberries.

Apparently, Belle had another craving. One he was more than willing to oblige.

* * *

Neal paced in the waiting room, prowling along the walls, eyes darting to the door and back. He wrung his hands, then stuffed them in his pockets only to pull them out and rub them over his face before he wrung them again.

Emma watched him over Henry's head. "Would you sit down? You're making me nervous."

"Should it take this long? I didn't think it would take this long. They've been in there for like two hours now."

Emma shared a look with her mother. "Every birth is different," Mary Margaret said, linking hands with her not-quite-calm husband. "Emma's only took an hour."

"Yeah, and Henry's took eight," Emma muttered, glaring at Neal because that had been entirely his fault and she could glare at him for that all she wanted.

The blood drained from Neal's face. "Eight?" he repeated, voice high and shrill. "Oh god. I feel like I should apologize for that. I mean, that's..." He stopped and stared at the two mothers sitting calmly before him, warriors in their own right. "Wow, okay, that's awesome and everything but I'm still thinking it's been too long."

Emma didn't know if she wanted to laugh or hit him and settled for an amused glare.

The door opened.

Neal whirled on the spot to see his father standing in the doorway, clutching a small pink blanket. A small, pink, wiggling blanket with hands and fingers and a little pink hat.

Rumplestiltskin smiled. "Come meet your sister."

* * *

"Oh now, hush my sweet lass. It's all right."

If anyone had ever told a story about The Dark One cooing to a baby in a sing-song voice, he probably would have turned them into a snail for the lie.

Yet there he was at four am, his daughter wailing into his shoulder, bouncing and murmuring nonsense to her.

Rumplestiltskin couldn't think of anywhere else he'd rather be.

"That's right. Tell me all about it my sweet little songbird. Shh, now, not so loud, hey? We can't wake up Mama. She needs her sleep, you see? Yes, Mama did something amazing, songbird. She gave you life. My precious little bird. And how beautiful you are, my darling Faye."

Magic came in handy when bottles were cold, and Rumplestiltskin sank into the rocking chair to feed his daughter once the milk was warm.

Faye squirmed, but accepted the bottle, peering at her father with hooded blue eyes.

Rumplestiltskin's heart swelled, threatening to burst at the sight of those deep blue eyes, so much like her mother's.

"There we go. Much better, isn't that right songbird? Chirping and singing away, all gurgles and giggling songs. You'll start talking soon, I think." Bottle drained, Rumplestiltskin set it aside, maneuvering Faye to settle against his chest. "Mama might see you all day, but Papa is here for you all night. Always, my Faye. Papa will always be here for you."

Faye yawned, sleepily snuggling onto Rumplestiltskin's shoulder. She burped, giggling when she managed to grab a fistful of his hair and yank.

"Oh, now, now. Let go little bird. Papa needs his hair."

Insistent, Faye tugged again, whimpering when the strands slid out of her fist.

"Paaaaapaaaaa."

Rumplestiltskin stilled, heart pounding in his ears. Swallowing a thick bout of tears, he rubbed Faye's back, inhaling her sweet baby scent. "That's right," he cooed. "Papa. I'm your Papa."

"Papaaaaa."

"Now you start your song, don't you little bird?" He kissed Faye gently, feeling her soft hair, fine and thin, but beginning to curl, against his lips. She was going to look like Belle, and he'd have to invest in an anti-boy shield, one that only let family in. "Sleep now, little songbird. You can sing for Mama in the morning."

Faye gurgled, hands reaching up for him, fingers curling around one of his to hold tightly.

"My little bird," Rumplestiltskin whispered as Faye dropped back into sleep. "Papa's here. Papa's right here."

* * *

"C'mere kid. Come to your big brother."

Faye eyed Neal, big blue eyes boring into brown, trying to decide if she liked this new person or not. She whimpered when Papa let go of her, lower lip trembling.

"Shh, now Faye, you know your brother," Belle said gently. Faye gave her mother a wounded expression and reached for Rumplestiltskin.

"Papa!" she demanded. "Papa!"

Neal pouted dramatically. "Aw, that hurts my feelings."

Faye blinked, studying him. Then she screwed her eyes shut and began to howl.

Panicked, Neal looked to his father. "Oh god. What did I do? I did something wrong." Helplessly, he bounced Faye on his knee, waiting for someone else to intervene. "Stop laughing," he ordered Rumplestiltskin, who only laughed harder, one arm slung over Belle's shoulders. "Work with me here, kid. Come on sis, I'm not that bad..."

Emma scooped the eighteen-month-old out of his arms, taking two steps to bounce her. Faye immediately fell quiet, reaching for Emma's long locks to tug on them.

"I knew it," Neal said, dazed. "She hates me."

"She just doesn't remember you," Belle soothed. "She forgets Ruby sometimes too, and she'll cry if I hand her off before she remembers."

"She doesn't know what to make of Ruby's son either," Emma added, rubbing Faye's back. "She likes Victor, oddly enough, but Michael terrifies her. Ow, hair!"

Rumplestiltskin chuckled, holding his arm out to catch his daughter, who'd spotted him and lunged from Emma's arms.

"Papa," Faye announced, petting his nose. She snuggled against Belle's shoulder, feet in Rumplestiltskin's lap. "Mama." Satisfied, she curled up against her parents, wiggling around, utterly content.

Neal sighed. "That's just not fair. I'm her brother!"

Faye stared at him. "Eel," she announced, pointing at him. "Eel."

Emma laughed, patting his shoulder. "And now you're an eel," she said. "At least you're not making her cry."

* * *

Rumplestiltskin trudged home, weary down to his bones. Faye and Belle had both come down with colds, leaving the women of his house either crying or coughing or both. He hadn't slept in a week, but Whale had promised him it wasn't anything to worry about.

Rumplestiltskin would have to remember to tell _him_ that when Michael started coughing.

The house was silent when he unlocked the door, and he had a brief moment of panic until he heard a soft murmuring coming from the kitchen. He followed the noise, trying to place the voice, and stopped dead in the doorway.

"We'll figure this out eventually. Say, you like pizza sis? Probably too young for it, but we won't know until we try." Neal bounced Faye on his hip, and she giggled, cheeks rosy with laughter rather than the fever that had plagued her. "Definitely too young for beer though, we'll save that for later. What do you think Mama wants to eat, hm? We could make her some soup. How's that sound?"

Faye spied him over her brother's shoulder, grinning at him as she wrapped herself around Neal.

"Oh hey, look at that. There's Papa. I told you he'd come home soon." Neal grinned at him, adjusting his hold on Faye. "Belle's still not doing too good. Thought I'd come help out until you got home."

Rumplestiltskin smiled at his children, fiercely trying to blink the tears away. "Yes," he said, voice cracking in the sudden quiet. "I'm home."


End file.
